


The Devil's Flowers

by wolfgraham



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, But this will have to do, Fannibals Raise Hell, Fluff, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Today I learned: I suck at metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgraham/pseuds/wolfgraham
Summary: Are we in love?Will oftentimes contemplates the exact moment this revelation dawned on him.(For the RAVAGE zine)





	The Devil's Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 and word counter say this is 450 words. I hope this fits the criteria! It's my first contribution to any Hannibal related event. Go check out the RAVAGE ANTHOLOGY project on Kickstarter!!

**The Devil’s Flowers**

 

_Are we in love?_

 

Will oftentimes contemplates the exact moment this revelation dawned on him.

 

He imagines that the first instance of that all-consuming love enveloped him from within the  _Uffizi Gallery._ The soft glow of artificial light washing over them as they sat side by side in a tranquil reunion and gazed upon the  _Primavera;_ a fragmented piece of Hannibal’s complex whole. The sight of him nourished the withering flowers that took root in his absence and made them bloom to life in Will’s chest like the first arrival of  _spring_. But flowers bloom and die over the course of a season— their love wasn’t any different. Will waited three years for the earth to consume it, but the twisted, poisonous roots had already spread themselves too deep and wide.

 

_Before you and after you._

 

Will would describe his life before _truly seeing_ Hannibal as purgatory.

 

He can't recall a time when death had not surrounded him. The bitter recollection of standing ankle deep in the shallow rivers of blood while he listened to the screams of the dead mournfully echoing in his skull late enough to greet the morning’s golden rays; the spirits of those who had been forsaken clung to him in droves. Will resigned himself to shoulder their burdens and trudged along the dismal depths as he endlessly fought to cleanse his hands of their sins. Along the way, the ghosts of those he loved and lost—  _Abigail_ — whispered to him in the shadowy recesses of his subconscious. It was a neverending cycle of self-inflicted punishment with no clear path in sight.

 

But even then, the roots of forbidden wildflowers coiled and tugged.

 

_You’ve just found religion._

 

Bedelia had once bitingly spoken those words and perhaps she wasn’t mistaken.

 

Will ascended the harsh journey through the labyrinth of hell, peered into endless keyholes in long-deserted hallways, and traversed backward in time to fall into the synchronized steps of Hannibal’s moonlit dance. Here, at the utmost summit in the pitch-black of midnight, his soul hadn't begged to be saved but rather _liberated_.

 

They spread their wings in unison and plummeted cliffside to the Earth’s central gravity together. With the moon at his back, Will beheld the heart of the burning star with open eyes and crashed below into the icy waves.

 

*

 

To bloom and die is necessary to thrive. It’s hard to contain the new growth of petals—   _of love_ — vibrantly bursting from his chest.

 

*

 

In the dim lighting of the hotel room, Hannibal reaches across the gap of their bed and tenderly traces Will’s cheek with his thumb. “What are you thinking of?”

 

Will flutters his eyes closed and smiles. “The devil’s flowers.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll have to post it and upload it to the proper social media outlets later (too sleepy right now) but I wanted to get it up here.


End file.
